In this red-hot scorcher from New York Times bestselling author Katee Robert, Trish Livingston meets her unlikely match in her brother’s best friend, the gorgeous Cameron O’Clery. They’re complete opposites—but that only makes the temptation hotter!

Trish Livingston desperately needs cash, so when her brother offers her a job while he’s on paternity leave, she snaps it up. She’s even willing to put up with his best friend and business partner, the notoriously grumpy Cameron O’Clery—especially when she finds out he’s very easy on the eyes.

Cameron hates people: especially peppy, happy people like Trish. He avoids her at all costs, until a raunchy late-night encounter in an elevator shows him that there’s a fine line between hate and lust. Cameron knows he’s broken the rules—and is resolved to keep his distance from her.

But Trish doesn’t make it easy. A work trip places them in adjoining hotel bedrooms, giving her the chance to put on a sizzling show just for him! When Cameron’s left wanting more, Trish is delighted to give him exactly that... Can either of them walk away from something that feels this good?

Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author KATEE ROBERT learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title The Marriage Contract was a RITA® Award finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it ‘a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension.’ When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginative games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

Make Me Need

Katee Robert

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08701-8

MAKE ME NEED

© 2019 Katee Robert

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To Hilary

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

TRISH LIVINGSTON DIDN’T do sad. Life was too short to focus on the negative crap. No matter how bad things got, it could always be worse.

Granted, she wasn’t exactly sure how much worse her life could get. She was drowning in student loans, living with her wonderfully understanding but ultimately smothering parents and the only job she could get was one with her older brother’s cybersecurity company.

Positive, Trish. You could be homeless. Your parents could be awful people—or gone completely. You could have as few job prospects as you did two weeks ago.

She smoothed a shaking hand down her skirt and squared her shoulders. Maybe this wouldn’t be so unnerving if Aaron was actually here to introduce her to his partner and walk her through her responsibilities. But his fiancée had had their baby a week earlier than expected, so he was currently playing the doting father. He’d offered to slip away for a few hours, of course. That was what her brother did—took care of everyone around him. She’d declined because that was what she did—smoothed waves and gave people what they really wanted.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and the door slid open, removing any chance she had to change her mind. Trish smoothed her hair back as best she could, pasted a bright smile on her face and stepped out.

From what Aaron said, this entire floor was Tandem Security offices, which seemed a little strange since it was the two of them, but who was she to complain? Trish eyed the front office. Not the most welcoming first impression. A layer of dust covered the desk and she’d been under the impression that plastic plants couldn’t actually die, but the teetering tree in the corner threatened to make a liar of her. Even the chairs were eyesores, a perfectly functional beige...that belonged in a hospital waiting room somewhere.

She walked over and sank into one and grimaced. Thought so. Whoever had designed these chairs didn’t want the occupants to spend any amount of time in them. She shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Well, this is what Aaron hired you for. Apparently he actually does need someone—desperately.”

“What do you want?”

She jumped to her feet and teetered in her cotton candy–pink heels. “Sorry, I was just trying out the chairs and...” She trailed off as she caught sight of the guy who’d snarled at her. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt that stretched tight across his impressive chest and set off his dark brown skin to perfection. A chiseled jaw and shaved head completed the picture and made her mouth water.

At least right up until she registered who this must be.

Trish turned her smile up to an eleven and stepped forward. “Cameron O’Clery? I’m Trish Livingston. Aaron was understandably occupied, so he said I should just head over here and make myself at home.” She held out a hand until it became clear he had no intention of shaking it. Undeterred, she dropped it and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt. “I know he mentioned this place needed a bit of a face-lift, but I never realized my brother had quite such a gift for understatement.”

He stared and finally shook his head. “Info is in the top drawer of the desk. Do what you want.” Cameron turned and stalked down the hallway and out of sight.

Trish frowned. She rounded the desk and pulled open the creaky drawer. The only things in it were a credit card with Tandem Security’s name on it and a paper with account names and passwords written out in neat block lettering. A little more snooping found a brand-new laptop tucked in the next drawer down. Trish shot a look down the hall, but since Cameron hadn’t made an appearance, she shrugged and booted it up. Typing in the websites listed brought up accounting software, an email address and the company software itself. She scrolled through the list of clients—past and present—and sighed. This would be a lot easier if I had a little guidance.

Chin up, Trish. You know how to make the best of any situation. This is no different.

She stood and propped her hands on her hips. Since she had to start somewhere, the waiting room was the way to go. Aaron had hired her to redesign the office space, liaise with incoming clients and provide general support to him and Cameron. She turned in a slow circle again, mentally tallying everything she needed to accomplish her first goal. No reason to pay top dollar for everything. It didn’t matter if the company could afford it or not. Even bargain shopping, it would be a chunk of change to do it all at once, so she’d roll up her sleeves and save costs wherever she could.

She palmed the credit card and headed into the back offices. There were no plaques or signs to indicate where anything was, but only one door had light coming from beneath it, so she headed in.

“I’m busy.” Cameron didn’t even bother to look up from his monitor.

Good grief. If this is his attitude, I can see why Aaron needed someone to handle clients. She didn’t let her smile slip, though. “I can see that, so I won’t take much of your time.” Trish held up the credit card. “Just let me know the budget for the front office and I’ll be out of your hair. Or, well, you have a shaved head so...” She smiled harder. “Sorry, I’m wasting time with babbling. Budget, please.”

His dark brows drew together and he finally deigned to look directly at her. “What?”

“A budget. For the front office.” The urge to keep talking bubbled up, but she pressed her lips together to prevent the words from escaping. Call it a hunch, but Cameron O’Clery didn’t seem the type of man to appreciate small talk or meandering conversational threads.

His frown didn’t clear. “Spend whatever you want.”

Lord, grant me patience. She crossed her arms over her chest. “With respect, I do better when I have clear guidelines. A budget would be helpful.”

Cameron cursed, as if this two-minute conversation had taxed what little patience he had. “Spend what you need to. If I think you’re out of line, I’ll tell you.”

Of that, she had no doubt.

Recognizing this was a losing battle, Trish edged back out of the office. “I’ll just get started, then.”

“Do that.” He turned back to his monitor, and it was as if he’d forgotten she was in the room.

She’d never been so summarily dismissed in her life, and Trish couldn’t deny that it rankled. She opened her mouth, but common sense got the best of her. As satisfying as it would be to pester one half of her new bosses, it was her first day. Better to set a precedent of doing her job well before she started pressing Sir Crankypants to hold down an actual conversation.

She headed back to her desk and considered. It was Friday, which gave her today and all weekend to get the decorating stuff out of the way. Then she could start bright and early Monday with figuring out the client aspect. Aaron wanted her to deal with new clients’ preliminary meetings to get a baseline for what services they required. From there, either Aaron or Cameron would take the client. Though I guess Cameron will be taking them all until Aaron is back in the office.

One problem at a time.

She dropped into her desk chair and pulled a dusty notebook out from the second drawer. A list would keep her on track. Trish gave the room one last look and sighed. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before she caught herself and forcibly straightened them. None of that, Trish. Think positive.

Working as a glorified secretary for her brother’s company might not be part of her bright plans for the future, but that didn’t change anything. She gave 100 percent. It was what she did—who she was. This job would be no different.

She’d be the best damn glorified secretary Aaron and Cameron had ever had.

* * *

Cameron finished the last bit of code for his current client’s site and sat back. There were still tests to run and scenarios to play out to ensure he’d filled every nook and cranny with the proper protections and hadn’t left any back doors accidentally open, but they could wait until tomorrow. He rubbed a hand over his head and then stretched. He was past overdue for a massage—he usually kept regular appointments to prevent the kinks in his back from getting too bad—but Aaron’s pending fatherhood had kept his partner out of the office more and more as his woman’s pregnancy got further along, and more work had landed on Cameron as a result.

He didn’t mind. His friend was happy, and that was enough for Cameron. He liked the work, liked keeping occupied with it. All he had was an empty apartment waiting for him, so it wasn’t as if he missed much by spending more time in the office.

As he pushed to his feet and stretched more fully, he frowned. What’s that smell? Another deep inhale had him checking his watch. It was well after eight in the evening, so who the hell was painting?

Cameron stalked out of his office, already calculating where the vents could be sending the scent from. It was probably the floor below theirs. The woman who ran the consulting business down there liked revamping her office with startling regularity. Saying shit wouldn’t accomplish anything, and it was after-hours. He was just tired and hungry and overreacting.

He reached the front office and stopped cold. White cloth covered the floor and blue painter’s tape marked off both the ceiling and trim. Half the white walls were now a soothing green, but that wasn’t what set him back on his heels.

No, that was reserved for the barefoot woman teetering on the top of a stepladder—above the sign set into the step warning not to stand above that point—her curly blond hair tied back in a haphazard knot that looked like a bird’s nest. He started forward, belatedly realizing she still wore the outfit she’d had on earlier, a simple black skirt that hugged her hips and ass and a loose pink blouse in the same startling shade as the heels she’d worn.

This is Aaron’s little sister. Get your eyes off her ass.

It was a great ass, though. As she went onto her tiptoes, the muscles in her lower half flexed and he had to bite back a groan. At least until she wobbled and overcompensated. Cameron jumped forward and caught her. He was a bastard and a half because he let himself enjoy the feeling of her in his arms for several seconds before he set her back on her feet.

Trish shoved the cloud of curly blond hair that had escaped its knot back and gave him a blindingly bright smile. “Thanks! I thought I could do this without scaffolding, but those nine-foot ceilings are no joke.” Her smile wobbled. “Crap, I’m sorry. I got paint on you.”

Cameron looked down to the streak of green marking his shoulder and then back at her. “You just took a nosedive off a ladder and you’re worried about my shirt?”

“Well...yeah.” She shrugged and leaned over to set the paint roller on the tray perched precariously on the ladder. “I fell. You caught me. Thanks again, by the way. But there’s no reason to dwell on it.”

He stared into those guileless blue eyes. She truly looked more worried about his shirt than any injuries she would have suffered if his timing had been a little off. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here and you broke your leg?”

“At that angle, I’m more likely to break an arm.” When he just glowered at her, she huffed out a breath. “My phone is right there, within easy reach.” She pointed at the ladder. “If I didn’t topple the ladder when I fell, and for some reason I wasn’t able to stand, I would have kicked it over, retrieved my phone and called for help. Happy?”

Fuck no, he wasn’t happy. The woman was obviously crazy, because she didn’t seem the least bit concerned with that scenario. Cameron crossed his arms over his chest. “If I leave right now, you’re going to climb right back up that ladder and finish painting, aren’t you?”

“No?”

He growled. “If you’re going to lie, at least try to pretend you’re not fishing for the right answer.” He gave up his happy thoughts about the pizza place down the block from his apartment. There was no way he could leave this woman unsupervised. He’d spend the rest of the night worried that she’d fallen again and he hadn’t been there to catch her, and there would be no rest and a whole lot of indigestion in his future. Cameron stalked around the ladder, testing its stability. Should be fine as long as no one stands on the top of the damn thing. He pointed at the untouched brush near the paint can. “You’re on edges.”

“Actually, I—”

“You’re on edges,” he repeated, staring her down. “I’ll handle this.”

Trish opened her mouth, drawing his attention to her pink lipstick. He’d never had a thing for painted lips before, but the bright pigment made the sharp Cupid’s bow of her top lip stand out against her skin and... For fuck’s sake, she’s got freckles. She was downright adorable, and that should be enough to banish any thoughts of getting his hands on her perfectly rounded ass or kissing her until she forgot about whatever argument she was obviously debating delivering.

It wasn’t.

He wanted her, and hell if that didn’t complicate things.

Cameron hadn’t bothered to date in longer than he cared to think about. It was so much goddamn work getting to know another person. Most of them ended up storming off before the second date because he said something wrong. Or he didn’t talk enough. Or he talked too much about work because, God forbid, that wasn’t a safe subject, either. It was exhausting just thinking about it, and he hadn’t met anyone tempting enough to make him want to run that particular gauntlet. Easy enough to scratch the itch in loud bars where talking was the last thing on either his or his prospective partner’s mind, but even that had gotten tiresome recently.

If he’d run into Trish on the street, he might have asked her out. Might have let her obvious enthusiasm and sunny attitude wash over him.

But she worked for him. What was more, her big brother was one of the few people in this world who not only put up with Cameron’s bullshit without expecting him to change but also was a genuine friend.

He might want Trish, but she was the one woman he couldn’t touch.

CHAPTER TWO

TRISH DIDN’T KNOW what to think of Cameron, but after looking like he wanted to give her a blistering lecture, he just picked up the paint roller, glared at her and got to work. She watched him climb the ladder and gave herself a shake. Staring at her boss’s shoulders was not going to get this room painted before midnight. He obviously wasn’t willing to listen to reason or let her do the job she was hired for, so she might as well take advantage of the extra set of hands.

Unsurprisingly, Cameron wasn’t much of a chatterbox and every time she tried to talk to him, she only got grunts or one-word answers in response.

She gave up. Not forever. But it was kind of nice to just paint and not have to worry about being chipper. There was no relaxing, though—not with Cameron taking up too much space in the front office. Every time she moved, she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He moved with perfect precision, each roll of the paint even and uniform.

It took two hours to finish up, and part of Trish was almost sad to end the companionable silence. She stood back and pushed her hair away from her face with her forearm. “Oh yeah, this is the right color.”

Cameron surveyed it as if he were a color expert. Hell, maybe he was. His brows furrowed. “It’s strangely pleasing.”

“That’s the point.” She placed her brush in the paint tray and started gathering up the various supplies scattered around the room. The tape would come off in the morning and then she’d touch up as needed, but she had a feeling there would be little of that necessary. Cameron was too much of a perfectionist to leave drips anywhere, which served her just fine.

She straightened and realized he was still watching her. His dark eyes studied her face as if he could divine her thoughts. Cameron frowned harder. “What are your plans for the front office?”

So now we have questions?

She bit back the sarcastic response and smiled. “This is the first impression clients get when they walk through the doors, so I want it to be welcoming and designed to set them at ease.” Trish’s main degree was in sales, but she’d gotten a minor in design. Her dream might be to eventually work in corporate fashion, but she knew how to use that skill set to set the tone of a room—and help people choose clothing that would make them happy. Not that she got to use the latter at all these days.

“We usually meet clients off-site.”

“Yes, I’m aware. But that wastes time in transit and Aaron mentioned that there’s a boardroom perfectly suitable for conducting meetings.” Though, considering the state of the front office, she hadn’t had the heart to check out that room yet to see what perfectly suitable meant. There would no doubt be more painting in her future, but hopefully it at least had furniture that was acceptable.

Cameron seemed to consider that and looked around the room again. “Tell me your plans.” A tiny hesitation. “Please.”

He’s trying. Throw him a bone. Aaron had warned her that Cameron didn’t bother with the social niceties, which set most people on edge, but his abruptness had still caught her off guard. If he was going to make an effort, though, she could do the same.

Trish walked over to stand in front of the door to the elevator. “Come here.”

He gave her a look like he thought she was trying to put one over on him but joined her in facing the room. His shoulder brushed hers, sending shivers through her body that she couldn’t quite control. He was just so big. Big and overwhelming and he smelled really good. He’s your boss, Trish. Slow your roll.

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Imagine this. You walk in and are instantly put at ease by the soothing green. I can make the desk work, but there will be a grouping of new chairs there.” She pointed to one side of the office. “And a smaller one there.” On the opposite side. “The window facing the street brings in enough light to justify some kind of plant, but I haven’t decided what will be the best fit. Probably one on each side of the window to create balance. A small water fixture on the other side in the corner. Some kind of art on the wall behind my desk, and maybe on another wall or two, though I haven’t decided yet.”

“Lots of changes.”

He sounded neutral enough, but she couldn’t help straightening her spine and lifting her chin. “Yes, but that’s what I was hired to do—create the best client-facing aspect of this business as possible. That starts with first impressions. You and Aaron have a company that’s one of the best in the business, and as silly as it might seem, presentation matters. Meeting in secondary locations is fine, but this is better.”

“One condition.” He kept going before she had a chance to protest. “No more painting alone.”

“Of all the—”

Cameron turned to face her, his chest nearly touching hers with each inhale. The proximity stalled her breath in her lungs and choked off whatever she’d been about to say. Trish swallowed hard, caught between wanting him to kiss her and wanting him to back the hell up and let some of the air back into the room. He didn’t touch her, though. Didn’t lean down. Didn’t cup her jaw or press her back against the wall and ravage her mouth.

Get yourself together.

His voice disturbed the air between them. “No. Painting. Alone.” Cameron’s dark gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest of seconds before it snapped back to her eyes. “Do we understand each other, Trish?”

The sound of her name on his lips turned her knees to Jell-O. She swayed toward him, toward the command in his voice, but caught herself at the last moment. Do not kiss your boss. Trish took a step back, and then another. She looked at the floor and swallowed hard. “Yeah, we understand each other.”

He helped her finish cleaning up in silence, though she stewed a bit when Cameron made a point of taking the ladder and stowing it in the closet without letting her touch it. He walked back into the front office as she slipped on her shoes. “You’re staying with Aaron?”

She could have let him believe that, but Trish had already misstepped enough on her first day without adding lying to the list, too. “I was, but I got my own place.” Her brother had fronted her the money for the first month’s rent, but she didn’t think he wanted her underfoot any more than she wanted to be underfoot while he and Becka got used to the whole new baby thing.

Cameron gave her another of those dark looks like he wasn’t sure what he thought of that. Good Lord, but the man was cranky. He finally sighed. “I’ll call you a cab.”

It didn’t take much to read between the lines. He’d been on his way out of here when he caught her unfortunate fall. She was keeping him from plans of some sort, but his weirdly stubborn chivalrous streak wouldn’t let him abandon her. Chivalry? More like control freakishness. Either way, he’d helped her out with painting even though he didn’t have to, and she wasn’t about to impose on him further.

Trish smiled and grabbed her purse. “Actually, I’m walking. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“Then I’ll walk you.” If anything, he sounded more grumpy now than he had before.

“Oh, that’s totally not necessary. The neighborhood is just fine and it’s not particularly late.” She gave Cameron an absent smile and headed for the elevator. “Thanks, though.” It was edging toward eleven, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d checked the street out last week with Becka—apparently walking could induce labor and Becka had been determined to make it happen—and there were several bars that would still be open around now, which meant pedestrian traffic. It was one of the pluses of the area when she was picking a place to live—that and the apartment came furnished and was within walking distance to the office. The rent was still astronomical, but Aaron was paying her an astronomical salary.

He’d promised it wasn’t a pity job, that he really needed her specifically to do this, but it felt like a pity job.

Stop it. Chin up. You’re going to help out your brother, save up some money and explore the city while you figure out your next step. Those are all good things.

She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Cameron walking beside her until Trish stepped out onto the street and was hit full in the face with icy wind. She shivered and barely had time to wish that she’d packed a warmer coat before a heavy weight settled on her shoulders.

She blinked and touched the coat Cameron had just draped over her. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’m fine.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Which way?”

She could keep arguing and let them both stand out in the cold or she could just give in and spend next week establishing that she didn’t want Cameron looking after her. She had an older brother. She didn’t need two.

You don’t see this man in a brotherly light and you know it.

Shut up.

And he wouldn’t have stared at your mouth like that if he saw you like a sister.

Seriously. Shut. Up.

She picked up her pace and Cameron easily fell into step next to her. Even as she told herself to keep her smile in place and just accept his chaperoning, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You realize I’m an adult, right? I can walk three blocks without having you shadow my steps and glower at anyone who looks at me sideways.” When he didn’t respond, her irritation flared hotter. “I have an older brother. I don’t need another one.” She jerked her thumb toward the door they’d stopped in front of. “This is me.”

“Trish.”

God, the things that man could do with a single syllable. She froze, her feet rooted to the ground as he stepped closer, his big body blocking the wind. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from swaying toward him, answering the gravitational pull he exuded. He didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. Trish went up onto her tiptoes and her mouth found his as if there had never been another destination for her.

The contact shocked her right down her to bones. His lips moved against hers, cautious and then commanding, taking everything she gave and then demanding more. Her knees actually buckled at the slow slide of his tongue against hers, and Cameron caught her easily around the hips.

He lifted his head, breaking the contact between them. All she could do was stare as he took his jacket from around her shoulders and shrugged it on. He nudged her to her door and waited for her to key in the code to get through. Then Cameron stood there until she shut the door firmly behind her.

Trish watched him stalk away. Did that just happen?

She’d just kissed her boss.

On her first day.

She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips. “I am in so much trouble.”

CHAPTER THREE

CAMERON SPENT ALL weekend cursing himself for kissing Trish back. He should have stepped away and clarified that they had a professional relationship only. Reminded her that she was his best friend’s little sister. Done literally anything except coax her mouth open with his tongue.

Now he knew what she tasted like. And that she’d melted so sweetly against him at the first contact. Not to mention the delicious way she’d shivered when he’d grabbed her hips.

Fuck me.

When Monday morning rolled around, he almost decided to work remotely. That was the path of a coward. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now and deal with her hurt feelings and move on. It might make the workplace awkward, but if Aaron’s glowing praise of his baby sister was any indication, it wouldn’t get her down for long.

It was only a kiss, after all.

The elevator seemed to take twice as long as normal, and he had to concentrate to keep from fidgeting. Cameron had arrived thirty minutes early on purpose. If he was safely camped out in his office, hopefully they could just pretend that misstep on Friday never happened.

The elevator doors opened and he barely made it a single step. If not for the walls being painted the same green he’d been elbow deep in a few days ago, he’d have thought he was in the wrong place. Comfortable-looking chairs—a warm sand color with a stripe of burnt red—were arranged on either side of the room. A leafy tree gracefully rose on either side of the window.

A window that had new curtains to match the chairs.

On the other side of the room, a water feature was arranged in the corner, a geometrical design with round stones and dark wood borders.

There was even fucking art on the walls.

When the hell did she find time to do this? She had to have put in long-ass days to find the pieces and haul them up here. He could comfort himself that they’d been delivered, but from what little he knew about Trish Livingston, he had no doubt that she’d physically carried every single piece up here herself.

Without asking for help.

Without once considering that she should ask for help.

Irritation flickered closer to true anger. He eyed her desk as he passed, taking in the cheery flower arrangement, the stack of bright Post-it notes and the overflowing mug of equally bright pens.

He clenched his jaw and headed down the hallway, but Cameron only made it three steps when the door to their mostly unused conference room opened and Trish herself appeared. She had a handful of paint color swatches in front of her face, and her brow was furrowed and her lips—red, today—were pursed. She hummed to herself. “This blue is too cold. No red. No yellow. I need a power color that’s not in-your-face.”

He planted his feet, irritation derailed by sheer curiosity. And the woman, damn her, didn’t even notice him standing there. She ran right into him and bounced off his chest, and it was only his cupping her elbows that kept her from landing on her ass.

“Damn!” Trish laughed. “Mom always said to keep my head on the here and now. Guess I should have listened, huh?”

Cameron just stared. They were so fucking close, if she leaned a little farther in, he would be able to see directly down her flowy purple top. He averted his eyes and released her. “You’re here early.”

“Lots of work to be done.”

It was too fucking early for her to be this chipper. He shot her a look. “How much coffee have you had?”

“Coffee?” She frowned. “I don’t drink coffee. It gives me the shakes and that’s just not my idea of fun. I stick with chamomile tea when I want something warm and cozy in my hands.” Trish’s blond hair was in a cloud around her shoulders today, her curls giving her an angelic look that was completely at odds with her fitted skirt.

For fuck’s sake, Cameron, stop looking at her. She’s being professional. You’re being inappropriate.

He cleared his throat and took another step back. “The conference room is fine. You don’t need to kill yourself for this job. The front office didn’t need to be finished so quickly.”

She wilted a little, but then her smile brightened until it was damn near blinding. “I like the work.” Trish charged forward, and he had to scramble back to avoid making contact with her again. She glanced at him as if he was being ridiculous. “And, no, the conference room is not fine. You can’t expect clients to take your presentations seriously when there are spiderwebs in the corners and all the chair cushions are moth-eaten. I’ll take care of it.”

That was what he was afraid of.

“Trish.”

She stopped in her tracks, and her smile dimmed to something closer to a genuine expression. “I was hoping we didn’t have to do this, but obviously you’ve been chewing on it all weekend.” Trish sighed and turned to face him fully. “Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line when I kissed you. I could give half a dozen reasons why it happened, but the truth is that it was inappropriate and I put you in a bad spot. So I’m sorry. Let’s pretend it never happened?”

Cameron wanted to know what those half a dozen reasons were, but he couldn’t ask. Not when she was so determined to put them back into their respective boxes of employee and employer. There was one thing he couldn’t let stand. “If you remember, I kissed you back.”

Her blue eyes flared with heat, quickly banked. “I remember.” Just like that, she was chipper Trish again, so sweet she made his teeth ache. “Don’t let me keep you from your work. I was hoping we could sit down later today and go over your current clients and their needs, but other than that I can get the conference room whipped into shape pretty quickly.”

“I have some time this afternoon.” Which would hopefully give him the opportunity to put a little distance between whatever the hell was going on between them.

“Perfect. If anything pops up between then and now, I’ll let you know.”

He shifted, realized he was backing away from her like someone trying to avoid being mauled by a wild animal and forced himself to turn away. “Do that.” He could have sworn she laughed a little as he strode away from her, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed her sunny expression firmly in place.

Must have been my imagination.

* * *

Trish walked to her desk on shaking legs. She’d had a plan. It was a very good plan. The best plan, considering her insane impulse to kiss Cameron a few short days ago. She’d come into the office and pretend like nothing had changed, like she was a professional who’d made a mistake, like she hadn’t used that brief kiss with him to bring herself to orgasm no less than seven times over the weekend.

It wasn’t her fault. She’d wanted to get the front office set up for Monday, but everywhere she looked, she saw evidence of Cameron. That was the spot he’d caught her when she’d fallen off the ladder. Over there in the corner was where she’d spent a solid sixty seconds staring at the line of his back muscles pressing against his shirt every time he’d reached over his head to paint. Right here was where they’d stood shoulder to shoulder as she’d told him her vision for the room.

A man shouldn’t be able to imprint himself on her inside of two hours with only a handful of words exchanged, and Trish had managed to convince herself that it was all in her head.

Until she’d collided with him in the hallway. They’d been so close, his big hands clasping her elbows in a way that should most definitely not be erotic, his chest rising and falling in the most tempting way possible.

She’d almost kissed him again.

Trish dropped into her chair and bumped her head against her desk a couple times. Sadly, the contact did nothing to clear the desire from her brain—or her body. I want my boss. I want to kiss him and do the horizontal tango and a few things that are illegal in half a dozen states.

What a mess.

A footstep had her opening her eyes, and she turned her head to press her cheek to her desk. Cameron stood in the middle of the hallway, his body tense and expression unreadable.

Because of course.

She couldn’t just have that brilliant little scene where she played it cool and professional and totally unaffected. No, he’d had to come back out here and see her for the mess she really was. Too late to salvage this. Might as well ride with it. “Can I help you with something?” She kept her tone even despite the fact she had her head on her desk and was obviously in the middle of a lust-driven breakdown.

Cameron looked like he wanted nothing more than to retreat and pretend this interaction had never happened. You and me both, man. He finally cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure. Fine and dandy.” Since he obviously had something to say, she sighed and straightened. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.” He shook his head and held up a thin file. “I have a web meeting to finish up a contract with an existing client in an hour. Would you like to sit in on it?”

She cautiously took the file and flipped through it. She didn’t necessarily need hand-holding, but it would be really useful to see how Cameron conducted business—both to see what he’d expect from her and to verify if it was as bad as Aaron seemed to think. But that also meant being in the same room as Cameron, and in close quarters.

It had to happen at some point.

I’m not ready.

You’re never going to be ready.

Wasn’t that the damn truth?

She took a careful breath and smiled brightly. “That would be great. I’ll go over this so I’m up-to-date.” She motioned to the file.

“Great.” He turned and walked away without another word.

Great.

She spent the next forty minutes going over the file to familiarize herself with the account and what Tandem Security did for the client. It was all pretty basic. They’d beefed up the client’s online security and added in a secondary package that was biannual upkeep for any major changes the client wanted. Smart. Keep a long-standing relationship so they come back here if they need more done.

By the time she walked into Cameron’s office, she’d managed to get herself under control. At least until she sank gingerly into the chair next to his in front of the monitor. He’d brought it over so she could be in the camera frame once the video call started, and the positioning put them within easy touching distance. It shouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

To distract herself, she focused on his computer setup. It was more advanced than she’d ever had to deal with, dual monitors showing a variety of programs running that might as well have been Greek for all Trish understood them. She was more than decent with technology, but she’d never come close to what Aaron and Cameron did for a living. It blew her mind a little bit. “Fancy.”

“It does the job.” He hesitated and then tilted the screen so it faced her a little more directly. “This damn client is always late. Every single fucking time.”

Before she thought better of it, she laid her hand on his biceps. “You’re almost finished with this account. Just keep that in mind during the meeting and everything will go swimmingly.”

Cameron’s eyes dropped to where she touched him, and his arm flexed slightly beneath her palm. Slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze dragged up to her mouth, hesitated and then settled on her eyes. “You take positivity to a new level.”

A simple sentence, but the way he watched her didn’t feel simple. It made her stomach twist and ignited the desire she was working so damn hard to keep under wraps. It would be the simplest thing in the world to lean in a little bit, to give him a clear signal that she wanted a repeat of the other night—and more.

He’d kiss her until she forgot her own name, until she wasn’t worried about the future beyond where he’d touch her next. Until she felt the ground steady beneath her feet even as he made her fly. She’d hitch up her skirt and climb into his lap and...

“Trish?”

She blinked, her heart beating too hard. “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”

Cameron reached up to touch the side of her face, gently guiding her to look at the monitor instead of him. “Client just logged on. I’m going to start the meeting.”

The meeting. Right. She swallowed hard. “Great.”

But he didn’t move back. His breath brushed the shell of her ear, drawing a shiver from her. “After the meeting, we’ll...talk.”

Talk? Or talk?

She stared blindly at the monitor, reality sinking its claws into her and digging deep. The attraction she felt for Cameron wasn’t going away—if anything, it was getting worse. Stronger. And if he meant what she thought—hoped, dreaded—he meant about talking, he was getting swept away alongside her.

Oh God, my brother is going to kill me.

Too bad she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d played it safe for so long and she’d missed her dreams by a mile.

Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind.

What could possibly go wrong?

CHAPTER FOUR

CAMERON MANAGED TO get through the final meeting without letting his disdain for the outgoing client show—because he was so damn distracted by Trish’s flowery perfume. No, not perfume. It was too subtle. It was probably lotion or shampoo or something, and the faint scent rose every time she shifted. Her hair brushed his shoulders, and his hands clenched against the need to dig into the thick curls and tilt her head back so he could claim her mouth again.

Focus.

He signed off the meeting and sat back, careful to angle his body away from hers. It didn’t help. Cameron had always considered his office obscenely large compared to the amount of space he actually needed to do his job. That was before Trish took up residence in it, filling every inch with her sunny presence. He didn’t know how to deal with it, and commanding her to get the hell out wouldn’t solve anything—and would only make him look like an asshole in the process.

Rightly so.

Cameron cleared his throat. “Did you decide on a color for the boardroom?”

Trish blinked those big blue eyes at him. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

No, what he wanted to talk about was how she felt about being spread out on his desk so he could kiss her until she was dizzy. Then he’d inch up that tease of a skirt and taste her there, too. Right here. In his office. While they were both on the clock, so to speak.

He was so out of line, it wasn’t fucking funny.

Focusing on work when she was so close he could run his thumb over her full bottom lip was a herculean task, but Cameron didn’t have any other option. He nodded, his voice gruffer than it had right to be. “The ceilings are just as high in there as in the front office, and you’ve already proven you can’t be trusted to follow the instructions on stepladders. Since I doubt you’re going to hire someone to do it, I’ll help you.” There. That was reasonable.

Except her eyes had gone wide and her jaw dropped. “That is the most ridiculous, backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard. I’m not even sure there’s a compliment in there. I am more than capable of doing my job.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“Actually, you did. Thirty seconds ago.” She shoved to her feet, which put her breasts directly in his line of sight. Cameron jerked his gaze back to her face, but it wasn’t any better for his control. She was gorgeous when she was pissed and trying not to be, her hair moving around like a live thing and her body practically vibrating with repressed fury. She pointed a finger at him, seemed to realize she might be crossing a line and let her hand drop. “Aaron hired me to do this job because he knows I’m capable of handling it. That includes managing painting.” She stalked out the door without another word.

Cameron stared hard at the doorway, walking back through the conversation to figure out where it went wrong. Choosing not to kiss her again was the right call. That, he was sure of. Asking about the boardroom was a reasonable thing to do. Maybe he’d spoken a little harsher than he intended, driven by the need to keep the lust from his tone, but he hadn’t yelled at her. Telling her to accept his help was only reasonable because she’d about broken her damn neck when she’d tried to do the front room herself. It was possible he could have worded it more carefully, but he’d hardly called her inept. He’d been more abrupt in other conversations and she hadn’t reacted so intensely.

Another replay of the conversation and he thought he had the answer. I am more than capable of doing my job. Well, of course she was. Aaron wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t, sister or no. Cameron certainly wouldn’t have signed off on it unless she was qualified. She might not be well-balanced when standing on a stepladder, and her college degrees weren’t an exact fit, but she obviously had an eye for creating a welcoming environment, and how she’d handled herself in the meeting just now had only reinforced that hiring her was the right call. She was fucking perfect for the job.

He’d told her that...

Cameron frowned. Shit, he hadn’t told her that, had he? He’d been so focused on the thought that she might pull another stunt like working after hours to finish the front office—and get hurt in the process—that he’d barked at her over it. He frowned harder. He wasn’t wrong about telling her not to paint without him. He knew he wasn’t.

But...maybe he could have approached it differently?

“Fuck,” he breathed. He wasn’t equipped to tiptoe around another person’s feelings. If he was, he’d have been better at the client-facing part of this business. Trish wasn’t a client, though. He couldn’t just end a meeting and cease having to deal with her. She’d be in this office, day in and day out.

He had to apologize.

Cameron played through his options a couple times, but there was really only one reality. If she was pissed, it would make the office unlivable. What was more, it made her a whole lot more likely to go ahead and paint the damn boardroom—and potentially hurt herself—when he wasn’t around. Since he wasn’t a fan of either option, he pushed slowly to his feet and went in search of her.

Unsurprisingly, he found her in said boardroom. The chairs around the old table had disappeared somewhere, and she stood on the table, in the process of changing out the overhead light fixture. Cameron froze, not sure if he should rush over to catch her in the event that she fell or that damn light fixture came undone and crashed down on her head.

Trish glanced over and gave him a brilliant smile. “This thing is so coated with some gross combination of dust and time that I’m calling it a wash and tossing it.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. A smiling Trish was not what he expected. Was this a trap? “You seem...not mad.”

“Why would I be mad, Cameron?” Her tone was as sweet as honey, but her use of his name might as well have been a hook in the gut.

This was most definitely a trap. He cleared his throat. “Earlier, I didn’t mean to—”

“To question my competence? To treat me like I’m a child in need of tending?” Every single word was that blend of sweet and sharp, until it was a wonder he didn’t bleed out on the floor at her feet. She turned to face him, the light fixture in her hands, as regal as a queen despite the streak of dust over the shoulder of her shirt and what appeared to be a cobweb clinging to her curls near her face. Trish looked down her nose at him. “If you have a problem with the way I do my job, that’s fine. You’re my boss. You’re more than entitled to correct and/or punish me as you see fit.”

He got hung up on the word punish and had to force himself back to task.

She wasn’t done, though. “That said, if you ever talk to me like that again, I’m out. I took this job as a favor to Aaron and, yeah, I kind of need it, but I don’t need it badly enough to put up with that level of disrespect. I get that you don’t handle people well, but at some point you’re just making excuses for bad behavior that’s inexcusable...” She trailed off, her breath coming too fast, and seemed to realize she was yelling at him. Trish clutched the light fixture closer to her chest. “So...there.”

God, she was something else. Fired up and willing to put him in his place, though she had to be truly pissed to have let the peppy sunbeam mask slip. Cameron leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry.”

“Why, you—” Trish blinked. “What?”

“You’re right. I was out of line. I’m sorry.” He stepped farther into the room and held out a hand.

Looking dazed, she took it and allowed him to guide her off the table. He finally managed to relax a little once her feet were both firmly on the floor. Trish gave him a suspicious look. “Why are you being so agreeable?”

“Contrary to what your brother thinks, I can see reason on occasion. I was worried about you falling again, and so I overreacted. But you’re right, I’m your boss.” He almost choked over the words—the reminder—but powered through. “Talking to an employee like that isn’t okay.”

“Exactly.” She still didn’t look convinced this wasn’t some kind of trick.

That made two of them.

Cameron...didn’t do this. He didn’t do interpersonal relationships. Too damn bad. Going to have to figure it out as you go, and it’s one hell of a learning curve. He didn’t move from his spot. “I respectfully request that you either hire out for the painting or wait until after hours when I can help you.”

Trish opened her mouth like she was going to snap back but seemed to consider. “It’s an unnecessary expense to hire such a small job out when I’m more than capable of handling it. For that matter, there’s no reason for you to take time away from your...whatever it is you do for leisure...to help me. I have it covered.”

She had it covered all the way to an ER visit with a broken arm. Or worse.

He met her gaze steadily. “When are you buying the paint?”

Cameron could almost see the gears whirling in her head as she tried to find a way out of this. He could have told her there was no way out. He wouldn’t let her paint this room by herself, and her little stunt this weekend had shown her hand—if she thought she could get away with it, she’d do it behind his back to avoid dealing with him.

If she was anyone else, he would have found her independence a relief. It meant he could focus on his job and let her do hers. But Trish wasn’t anyone else—she was Trish. He needed to keep her safe, even if that meant keeping her safe from working herself to the bone.

Finally, she sighed. “I’m going to pick it up after work.”

“Pick it up tomorrow.” He didn’t bother to keep the command out of his voice. If she went and got it after hours, she’d be right back here the second he wasn’t looking.

She’s not a wayward puppy, asshole. She’s a person.

Yes, she was. A person who had excellent work ethic and showed every evidence of being just as stubborn as her older brother—the same older brother Cameron would have to answer to if something happened to her. That was all. It was simple, really. Not in the least bit complicated. He certainly didn’t have any ulterior motives.

Trish narrowed her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do after hours.”

“It concerns this job, so I sure as hell can. We’ll take a long lunch tomorrow and paint the damn boardroom. You can pick up the paint late morning beforehand.”

For a moment, it seemed like she’d keep arguing, but then she gave him a brilliant smile. “Sure thing, Mr. O’Clery.” Trish turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Okay, that was definitely a trap.

CHAPTER FIVE

TRISH ALMOST SAID to hell with it and bought the paint anyway. She got so far as to leave her apartment and start in the direction of the store... But common sense reared its ugly head. Cameron might have been kind of an ass with his command for her to wait, but he’d also apologized and he wasn’t being completely unreasonable with wanting to help. It might even be kind of nice for the job to go faster.

Honesty, Trish.

She huffed out a breath and turned in the opposite direction. “The honest truth is that I’m pissed that when he said we’d talk, he meant he’d treat me like a child instead of kissing me again.” She shot a look around her, half expecting Cameron to melt out of a nearby shadow and call her on her idiocy. There was only the normal foot traffic at this time in the early evening, and they were obviously all NYC natives, because they didn’t so much as blink at her talking to herself like a crazy person.

She grabbed dinner from the little Chinese place a few blocks down and carted it back to her apartment. Behind locked doors, she finally sighed. Okay, my pride was hurt. I let it get the best of me. We both agreed that the first kiss was a mistake that shouldn’t be repeated...but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a repeat.

The trilling of her phone drew her out of her thoughts. When Trish saw it was her mother, she almost deliberately missed the call. It had been a long day and she didn’t have the energy to reassure her mother—and through her mother, her father—that she was doing just fine in the big, scary city. She knew for a fact that Aaron hadn’t been subjected to these worried phone calls when he moved here.

She took a deep breath and put as much smile into her voice as she was capable of. “Hey, Mom.”

“Trish, there you are! I was worried when you didn’t pick up.”

That was her mother. The eternal worrier. She’d been born and raised in Lake Placid and had always harbored a hope that her daughters would do the same. Trish’s older sister, Mary, had followed that path. She’d married her high school sweetheart and settled in after college to become an elementary school teacher. Mary was practically perfect in every way. She didn’t keep her mother up at night, worrying herself to death.

No, that role had always fallen to Trish.

She kicked her cheerfulness up a notch—the only way to combat her mother’s concern when she got like that. “I was just about to sit down to dinner.”

“Dinner? Trish, it’s after seven. You haven’t been working this whole time! Aaron said that partner of his was a good boss, but if he’s got you working twelve-hour days, that’s abuse!” Her voice took on strident tones.

Trish repressed a sigh. “Mom, you’re getting worked up for no reason. I’m eating late because I stopped by Aaron’s to see my new niece and got distracted with her adorableness.” There’s no need to lead an army down here to haul me back home. An army of three—her mom, her dad and Mary—but no less fearsome for its numbers. Though her mom hadn’t been happy about her needing to move back home after college, she hadn’t exactly shed a tear to have her youngest daughter under their roof again. Now she was treating this move like Trish had left for college all over again.

And was just as helpless and out of her element as she’d been at eighteen.

“I worry about you. That city—”

“Mom.” If she didn’t do something drastic, her mother would end up on an hour-long spiel about all the ways she could get mugged or worse in New York. It didn’t matter that Trish had found an apartment crazy close to where she worked or that she’d pulled it from a list that Aaron himself had put together. New York City terrified their mother and she would spill that feeling over at every opportunity, whether she meant to or not.

Unless Trish distracted her, she’d be up all night running scenarios—each more terrifying than the last—and her mother would call tomorrow and be a total mess. She cast a longing look at her cooling Chinese food and resigned herself to a reheated meal. “Did Aaron send you the pictures he took of Summer? She was especially cute today. He says she can’t really smile yet, but I swear to God she was smiling at me.”

The distraction worked. Her mother went on to gush about how Aaron did a video call with her and the baby, and wasn’t his fiancée the sweetest thing, though goodness, they should be married by now if they’re having babies. Through it all, Trish’s mind wandered...right back to Cameron.

She wanted him to kiss her again.

Or, rather, she wanted to kiss him again. To do more than kiss. To break half a dozen rules and regulations that she wasn’t even sure Tandem Security had in place.

Not to mention that Aaron might lose his damn mind if he finds out I’m lusting after his business partner.

She blinked, realizing that her mother had been silent for a beat too long. Trish faked a yawn. “Mom, I have to go. I have a big day tomorrow, and I want a full night’s rest.”

The silence extended for a beat. Another. Then her mother sniffled. “I just wish you were here.”

Oh good Lord. She was going to devolve to sobbing next, and Trish was too tired to be sure she wouldn’t snap in response. She was twenty-fucking-four years old. She couldn’t live at home forever. She understood that her mother’s empty-nest syndrome was in full force, but Trish couldn’t form her entire freaking life around making her mother feel fulfilled. Not that her mom wanted her to. Not exactly. She was just emotional and weepy and Trish wasn’t capable of stepping back and cutting the cord fully. It would hurt her mom and she didn’t deal out pain—only good things.

So she cleared her throat and smiled so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Mom, how am I supposed to find a man to make an honest woman of me and have a bunch of babies for you to spoil if I’m living in the same room I’ve had since birth? Aaron needs me right now. I can’t leave him hanging.”

Leveraging Aaron’s name got her mom back under control. She gave another sniffle, but the wavering quality of her voice evened out. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s just so hard not seeing you.”

“I know, Mom.” She touched the side of her Chinese food container and sighed. Cold. “I’ll talk to you later.”

It took another five minutes to actually end the call, and by the time she did, it was all she could do to sink onto her couch. Trish stared at her cold dinner and fought against the burning in her throat. She wasn’t overwhelmed. She was capable and positive and could handle anything the world threw at her.

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